Another Day
by Bailadora
Summary: Just another crappy day in the life of Severus Snape.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All hail J.K. Rowling. In other words, not me.   
Another Day 

_Another day. Just another shitty day._

Severus Snape woke up thinking the same thing every morning. He muttered an incantation to silence the blaring alarm clock and silently slipped out of bed. He shivered as the cold air of the room hit his skin and he quickly snatched a shirt up off the floor, smelling it before pulling it over his head. Stumbling groggily towards the bathroom, he tripped over something near the foot of his bed. He reached down to find yesterday's black pants and grabbed them as well.

He didn't bother to shut the door when he got into the bathroom. Why should he waste the energy? There was no one in his bed, and he was sure that there never would be. He frowned at his reflection in the mirror and angrily shoved a toothbrush into his mouth, thinking it pointless to brush his graying teeth, but doing it anyway. He decided against combing out his greasy hair on account that no one would notice, least of all _her._

He emerged from the bathroom after pulling on the slightly dirty pants and then searched his room for a pair of clean socks. Upon not finding any, he wore the pair left in his shoes from the day before. He was about to scrawl a note to whichever house-elf cleaned his room to tell it do his laundry as well when he remembered yelling at the stupid thing the previous week, telling it to get the bloody hell out of his room and leave him alone. All right, so he would have to do his own laundry.

He put on his robes, completing the black ensemble and left his empty room, making sure to magically lock it behind him.

He briefly considered skipping breakfast. The din of the Great Hall always put him in an even worse mood, but his heart leapt at the prospect of seeing _her, _so he headed to the stairs that lead from the dungeons up to the rest of the castle.

He had taken to thinking of _her_ as Her. He had dropped Her name in favor of that if he did, he wouldn't be thinking so much about Her as an actual person, but as an object of his deepest desires. Okay, so, it didn't make much sense. But he didn't care.

He took his seat at the staff table between the great oaf Hagrid and Trawlaney, who reeked of cooking sherry. He arranged his face in what he hoped was an uninterested expression as the woman told him of the dream she had had about him the previous night, something about his slow and horrible death. He began to wish for death to come now, as she continued her story while encouraging him to finish his tea so she could read his leaves.

His eyes wandered the Great Hall, searching unsuccessfully for Her. Finally, when he sighed very loudly, Trawlaney moved on to her next victim, who happened to be McGonagall, and Snape was sure that the Headmistress would tell Trawlaney she was off her rocker, if not in those words.

Instead of listening for the almost guaranteed insult from McGonagall, he once again scoured the enormous room, looking for the girl. His black eyes moved up and down the Gryffindor table and on to Ravenclaw's where, once or twice, he had seen Her speaking in hushed voices with Luna Lovegood. He still could not find Her.

He sighed again. Exams were still three months away, but She was probably in the library, studying. He hoped She was studying for his class. Maybe he could drop a few hints to Her later about what material was going to be on the N.E.W.T. exam. He would have to be careful though. She was bound to pick up on what he was doing–

There! There She was! She was walking between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables with a tall, lanky boy on either side of Her. He smiled in spite of himself. She was beautiful, even with the look of exasperation on Her face.

The red-haired boy on Her left was arguing with the bespectacled boy on Her right. He could tell that they were arguing by the amount of forceful hand gestures the boys used and Her ever-growing frown. Finally She picked up Her pace and sat down next to two other girls, leaving no space for the arguing boys. Snape watched Her wipe a tear from Her cheek and his insides tingled as he realized that he was the only one in the whole Great Hall that had noticed.

She left just a few minutes later after staring at the piece of toast on Her plate. Snape left as well. He hadn't eaten, and he wasn't hungry. Plus, there was no reason to stay if She wasn't there.

Having a free period for the first hour of the day, Snape took his time in wandering back down to the dungeons. He saw Her walking up the staircase alone, ignoring the pleas of the two boys behind Her. How he longed to take Her in his arms and make Her happy again! The red-haired boy grabbed Her by the arm, forcing Her to face him. Anger flared up inside of Snape as the boy stroked Her face, and She embraced him in a hug. Then She turned to the black-haired boy and broke into sobs, hugging him as well. Snape turned on his heel and stalked off towards the dungeons, disgusted. How She could possibly keep going back to them after all they had done to Her was beyond him.

He unlocked the door to his storeroom and gathered an armful of potion ingredients. He made a few trips and made sure to take some of everything that he had. For lessons that day, he had decided to let the students chose what to make. Most, he knew, would go for the easier concoctions, but he was sure that She would go for something more difficult, or better yet, something She made up Herself.

With a flick of his wand the instructions appeared up on the large chalkboard at the front of the room. _Choose a potion from the book and make it. All will be tested at the end of the class period._ He wanted to do the least amount of talking as possible, but he was sure that at least one person would have some kind of pointless question that he would have to answer.

He sat down at his desk and waited.

A few minutes later, he heard voices in the hall outside of his classroom. He knew that he should really get up and let them in, but he wanted as much quiet as he could get. And, while She was in this class, She and Her stupid friends always entered the room at the last possible second.

The bell rang and Snape grudgingly waved his wand, opening the door to let in a slow stream of students.

"Hurry up," he grumbled. "We've much to do today and I don't have time for you to waste." The students now moved at more of a jog. He smirked. They knew not to piss off Professor Snape.

When he was sure that they were all seated, he pointed to the chalkboard and returned to his desk with a swish of his robes.

"But Professor," someone complained. Snape turned to find Neville Longbottom waving his hand in the air. "What if our potions are made wrong?"

"You better hope that you _don't _make your potion wrong, Mr. Longbottom," he sneered. Then he added to the whole class, "You are at N.E.W.T. level now. Any potion that results differently from the text will lose your house fifteen points. Any other questions?"

Her hand went shot into the air and Her two friends rolled their eyes, but She ignored them. It was hard for Snape to keep the scowl on his face, but somehow he managed. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

Hermione kept Her hand above Her head as She asked, "Does it have to be in the book? Can I make something up out of my head? I've been wanting to try mixing wolfsbane with–"

He desperately wanted to know what She wanted to mix with wolfsbane, and it killed him to interrupt Her, but he did anyway. "Miss Granger, you may make whatever the hell you want, but you better be sure that it works."

"Yes, Professor," She said, dropping Her delicate hand into Her lap.

The students sat, staring at Snape.

"Well, get to it now. You don't have all day."

They scrambled to get started.

Snape sat at his desk and began to correct papers. _Fail, fail, pass, fail. _He didn't even have to read the essays; all he had to do was look at the names to give the grade. Teenagers were so predictable.

Every once in a while, he would look up to check his students' progress. He saw that Neville's potion was a sickly green color, which, judging from the array of ingredients in front of him, was supposed to be a deep lavender. Snape lifted his wand and the mess in Neville's cauldron disappeared. Neville looked up, bewildered. "Start over," Snape instructed and the boy hung his head and began the process all over.

Snape reached Malfoy's essay in the stack of papers on his desk. He looked over to where he, Crabbe, and Goyle always sat to find a haze of silver above the only cauldron, as Crabbe and Goyle were just sitting there. "Malfoy!" Snape called sharply.

"Yes, Sir?" he replied, full of confidence in his potion.

"The Memory Draft, is it not?" Snape inquired, referring to the potion Malfoy was creating, which was supposed to have a blue cloud of smoke above it, not a silver one.

"Yes, Sir!" the blond boy nodded vigorously.

Snape lifted his wand once again, this time to erase Malfoy's potion.

"But Sir…" Malfoy whined.

"Read step number seven and tell me what direction you were supposed to stir it in." demanded Snape through gritted teeth.

Malfoy mouthed the words as he read and Snape rolled his eyes. Malfoy looked to face his teacher, growing even paler than it usually was. "Counter-clockwise, Sir," he mumbled.

"And what direction did you stir it in?"

"Counter-clockwise, Sir," the ignorant boy insisted.

"No! You didn't!" Snape yelled, gaining the attention of the entire class. "Do it again!"

He sat down and returned to grading Malfoy's paper. The stupid git. Snape had been planning on passing him but now…_ Fail._

The next paper was Ronald Weasley's. Snape groaned as he saw the smeared and blotted ink and raised his eyes to where Ron was sitting with Harry and Hermione. He groaned again. He always had this conversation with himself. Did being friends with Her make him gain or lose points? He wasn't sure. He watched the girl whisper something to Ron and the red-haired boy added an extra ingredient, surely one that had been forgotten in an earlier step. _Fail._

Harry Potter's paper was next. Snape watched as Harry read the instructions for his potion, picked up a bottle from in front of him, and read the instructions again. Snape hated to admit it, but Potter was nowhere near as arrogant as his father. Harry almost had an air of uncertainty about him, as if he was always unsure of everything that he was doing. _Pass… barely._

Snape looked at his watch. There was twenty minutes left of class. He worked his way through the pile of essays, failing most of them. Finally he came to the last paper. Hers. Neat, compact handwriting filled the parchment, which was a whole two feet long instead of the required one. He skimmed the paper, knowing he wouldn't find any mistakes, but looking none the less. It was a game that he liked to play with himself. And whenever he found a mistake, he called Her up to his desk to have a little chat.

Finding no mistakes, not even in grammar, he glanced over to the table where She sat. Her bushy brown hair, which had been down when She entered the classroom, was now pulled back into a messy bun at the base of Her neck. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, and sweat covered Her forehead. She was muttering to Herself, the textbook in front of Her closed. She was perfect.

Suddenly She looked to him, meeting his gaze. She smiled timidly. Snape realized that She must have noticed that someone had been watching Her. He quickly glanced back down to Her paper. _Pass._

Students were now coming up to his desk and taking empty vials back to their places, where they filled them with a sample of their potion and placed them back on the desk in front of Snape, careful not to disturb their professor.

With only five minutes left, Hermione was the last to turn in her potion. Snape watched as She carefully corked the vial and placed it in front of him.

"As there is not enough time left, we will have to test these tomorrow. Mr. Longbottom, I believe we will be needing the assistance of your toad." Neville gulped visibly.

Snape examined the contents of Her vial. It was a metallic purple, with swirls of blue and green. Small shapes floated throughout it, reminding him of a Pensive. He uncorked it and smelled it and swirled it around, but he could not figure out what it was.

"Miss Granger?" She looked to him nervously. "Come up here."

Harry gave Her hand a reassuring squeeze and Snape scowled. She made Her way up to his desk and stood in front of him. "Yes, Professor?"

"What is this exactly?" he asked, holding up the vial.

She looked relieved. "It's a Memory Draft that contains my own memories."

Snape just stared at Her, waiting for Her to continue.

"As you know, a Memory Draft brings your own memories into your consciousness." Of course Snape already knew this, but he let Her continue. "My potion lets you live through my own memories."

"So, I could take this and see things that you remember?" Snape asked, amazed.

"Well, yes," Hermione said uncertainly. Snape realized that he needed to think a little more before he started talking.

"It sounds a bit like what happens with a Pensive," he said critically.

"That's where I got the idea, actually," She answered shyly. "Mine differs in that, even though the person that makes the potion takes the memory out of their brain, they can still remember it. It's a whole new–"

Snape let Her continue talking, thought he was not listening to what She was saying. Instead, he was watching Her lips. He wanted to stand up and press his own down onto Hers. Then his eyes slowly wandered to Her chest, which was rising and falling evenly as She spoke. She was too busy describing Her potion to notice that he was staring appreciatively.

The bell rang, cutting through the fantasy that was beginning to form in Snape's mind. She looked to Her friends and back to Snape.

"Yes, I understand it now. You may go," Snape dismissed Her.

She smiled and ran towards Her friends, leaving Snape all alone.

His next class was for the first years. There really was no point in teaching them. They didn't listen, for one thing. He hated them, for another. And, oh yeah, they hated him, as well.

After repairing a singed eyebrow and putting out a fire, the class was over. Snape stomped up the stairs for lunch. Having arrived late due to the fire, he was the last to sit down, and taking his seat next to Hagrid, he found that the only food left on his end of the table was bowl of kidney beans. Yum.

"Sorry, Professor," Hagrid acknowledged Snape's lack of food. "Dint think you was comin' up." Hagrid's own plate was piled high with chicken and potatoes. "But you can have some of mine, if ya like," he offered.

"No, thanks," declined Snape, and he left the Great Hall, passing behind the girl and Her friends.

He returned to his classroom and set up for the next batch of students. His afternoon was filled with one uneventful class after another.

Finally, the day was over. He was tidying up his desk when a timid looking second year entered the room.

"Yes?" Snape asked, not caring how rude he sounded.

"I have a detention. Remember?" he boy reminded him while looking at the floor.

_Damn. _Snape did remember giving the boy a detention for possession of a Fanged Frisbee, he had just forgotten that it was to be served that night. He hadn't even thought out what to have the boy do yet…

"Of course I remember," he snapped. "You're to sort out these Flubberworms for tomorrows lesson. No gloves and no magic." Yes, it was very unoriginal, but he had nothing else. He returned to his desk and unloaded a pile of papers from his bag. He settled in for another long, boring evening of mindless correcting.

At ten to eight, he let the boy stop. Snape was in a rotten mood and he just wanted to go to bed. The boy gratefully ran out of the room and out of Snape's mind, which was back on Her. Once again, he loaded up his bags. He wondered what She was doing at this very moment. Showering? Getting ready for bed? Doing homework? The last one was the most likely. Actually, She was probably doing Ron and Harry's homework.

He returned to his room, threw his shirt and pants on the floor, and fell backwards onto his bed, praying that tomorrow would be better, but knowing it was worthless to even wish it.

**A/N:** **I really enjoyed writing this. Man, if all of Snape's days are like this I would really hate to be him. Actually, I would hate to be him anyway.**

**One question, though. Does it get annoying how I kept capitalizing 'Her' and 'She' when I was referring to Hermione? Should I just not do that? Any other suggestions? Please review! Please!! Even if you didn't like it, I just want some feedback. And if you did like it, maybe I will write a Snape/Hermione, not like a sequel or anything. Or maybe… let me know. Thanks!**

12


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I realize that a few people are having problems with some of my characters not matching up to J.K. Rowling's, but this is MY story, so I will make the characters act the way I want them to. If you don't like it, don't read it.

Snape awoke with a jolt, the dream he had been having cut off abruptly by the insistent ringing of the alarm clock. After he had hit the snooze button, he fell back against his pillows and allowed himself a few moments of reminiscence.

_She seemed to float in the slightly transparent white nightgown that She was wearing. It clung gently to Her slender frame and swished against Her legs. Her hair cascaded over Her shoulders and flowed out behind Her as She gracefully walked towards him. He was lying on a large bed, the silk sheets cool underneath him. She crawled up next to him, never breaking his gaze. Snape brought his face closer and closer to Hers until he could count the freckles splattered across Her nose._

The alarm clock's blare filled his consciousness once again and he groaned, though a small smile played on his lips. Maybe he was finally getting out of the rut of things and today would be better than yesterday. He closed his eyes and returned to the dream.

_She placed a hand on his chest, Her eyes glittering in the candlelight. She murmured his name and closed the distance between their lips._

Snape was startled out of his reverie for the final time. He cursed and swept his hand violently across his bedside table, knocking the clock to the floor where it lay, shattered into a million tiny pieces. He shook his head. No, today was going to be just as bad as every other. 

He grudgingly repaired the clock with a wave of his wand and returned it to the table. He kicked the sheets off his lanky body and immediately wished he hadn't, wanting the reassuring warmth and the opportunity to sleep. Instead he stood, stretched, and stalked to the bathroom. He slipped out of his boxers and stepped into the shower, not waiting for the water to become hot and he welcomed the cool stream that helped to clear his mind.

The dream was soon lost to him, one among many that lay hidden at the back of his mind. He didn't like to dwell on them any longer than necessary, worried that he would get too hopeful for a real relationship, something he knew could never happen.

With the dream gone, he got out of the shower and dried his still greasy black hair with his wand, then brushed his teeth. When he was finished, he stood staring at his almost naked body in the cracked mirror. His black eyes were empty of emotion, a deep void of uncaring nothingness. His large and hooked nose didn't seem to match his thin lips, which were drawn in a tight sneer. Ribs could be seen from under his sickly pale skin, and he had no muscle on his chest or arms. Disgusted with himself, he dropped the damp towel that hung from his hips. He wasn't sure how large "large" actually was, but the only part of his body that he was confident about was the part that he was sure no one would ever see.

He scowled at his reflection and ran a comb through his hair. The wrinkled shirt he had worn the previous day still looked relatively free of stains, save the small spot of ash from the fire he had put out during the first years' lesson which could hardly be seen anyway because it was black. However, he didn't want to be the one to smell it. He pulled it over his head nonetheless, not caring that he had tousled his hair and he made no effort to set it straight again. He shoved his legs into black pants and covered it all with his robes.

He went back into his room and having no windows, lit a few candles. He gathered up an armful of dirty laundry, pulling socks and shirts from under his bed as well as from heaps on the floor, and headed towards the basement and the kitchens, where he knew he could find hoards of house elves.

He walked along the empty corridors of the basements, the walls of which were lined with paintings of food and elaborate dinner parties. He stopped in front of a painting of a fruit bowl. Once he followed Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew down here in their fourth year, and he knew how to gain entrance to the kitchens. He raised a finger to the pear and brushed it lightly. The pear giggled and the large painting swung forward to reveal a room as large as the Great Hall and filled with the little elves.

He stepped inside and was immediately surrounded by the knee-high creatures. "Sir? Professor, Sir, how can Dobby help you, Sir?"

Snape looked around to find the source of the squeaky voice. One elf that was wearing a large stack of what appeared to be knitted hats on his head looked up at him with large brown eyes. "Sir?" he asked again. Then he noticed the pile of clothes in Snape's arms. "Oh, Sir, you can not bring that in here," Dobby said in a slightly mortified voice.

"Why ever not?" Snape sneered.

"These are the kitchens, Sir," the house elf explained.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Yes, and you are a house elf. I need my laundry done."

"Sir," Dobby said in an exasperated manner, "we prepares _food _here. There is separate rooms for laundry. Dobby will show Sir if he wishes." Snape allowed the house elf to grab the hem of his robes. He was led out of the kitchen door and down the corridor to another room full of the house elves, but these were working in groups around tubs of steaming water. A few of them moved over to Snape and wordlessly took the filthy clothes out of his arms.

"Sir does not even have to come down here to get his clean clothes. They will be brought up to Sir," Dobby was saying, but Snape wasn't listening. He picked up his pace and swept past the elf without even a backward glance.

The Great Hall was sparsely dotted with students when Snape arrived for breakfast, a full half an hour later than usual. He began to walk down the aisle between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables to the Head Table, looking around for Her. She was just standing up with Her friends when Snape finally laid eyes on Her and he sighed contentedly, glad to see Her. The three teens passed Snape and She glanced up at him nervously. Snape scowled and tried to ignore Her, though inside he grinned. Disgusted with himself for getting so sentimental, he sat himself down at his usual spot next to Hagrid, pure torture in itself.

He forced himself to half listen to Hagrid, who talking about his new batch of horrid creatures for the O.W.L. students. Snape was punishing himself for ever thinking that She could like him, though he found his thoughts once again returning to Her. He quickly shoved them away. _Nothings ever going to happen. You don't _want _anything to happen, do you? _This thought startled him. Did he want an actual _relationship_ with Her? He had never had one with anyone before, but he did know that She made him feel–different. Special and excited almost. And he knew that he wanted to take Her in his arms and claim Her as his own. He wanted to–

"Professor? You hear what I asked ya?" Hagrid brought Snape back to the real world. Snape stuck his hands into the pockets of his robes and vowed to listen to Hagrid more carefully. There was something cold and solid in his pocket. He tried not to let it distract him, but it was strangely unfamiliar, yet he had a feeling that he should know what it was. After running his fingers over it twice and still unable to tell what it was, he grasped it in his hand and pulled it part of the way out so he was the only one who could see it. A small vial lay in his hand, milky purple swirled with blue and green. Her potion. Her memories.

Snape stood up abruptly.

"You all right, Professor?" Hagrid asked, concern on his face.

"Super-bloody-fantastic," Snape said, only slightly sarcastic. He took one last sip of his pumpkin juice, pushed in his chair, and half-walked half-jogged out of the Great Hall.

When he entered the classroom, he shut the door and magically locked it. He uncorked the vial, which had grown warm in his constant grasp, and dumped it into the small cauldron on his desk. He enlarged it with a flick of his wand and conjured up a crystal glass. She hadn't told him how much to drink and he figured that meant that he wasn't meant to test it out. He just wanted to take a little peek…

He filled the glass to the very top and drank it in three gulps. The cool liquid slid down his throat and he could feel it come to rest in his stomach. His vision blurred and he stumbled over and fell into his chair. For the first time ever, he was worried that She had made a mistake in Her magic. He was starting to hyperventilate when suddenly he was sitting in a desk at the back of his own classroom. Looking around, he saw himself standing up in front of a group of young students. He had made it. This was one of Her memories.

He glanced around to his right and saw a much smaller and bushier-haired version of Her. Seeing Potter scratching violently on a piece of parchment and his other self reprimanding the boy, Snape realized that without a doubt, this was the current N.E.W.T. level students' first ever potion lesson. Her hand shot straight up into the air, nearly knocking Snape, who was sitting beside Her, over. The younger Snape, looking perturbed, called on Her. Snape wished he could stand up and wring his own neck. How could he have fallen for this girl? He wished he could shout out a warning, but he knew it was useless. For some reason however, this didn't bother him as much as it should have. Did he _want _to have feelings for the girl?

The room around him shimmered and he was standing behind her at the Gryffindor table. Judging from the decorations hung from the ceiling, it was the Welcoming Feast. She was slightly older than last time, but not nearly as mature as She was now. Snape judged Her to be twelve. Dumbledore was addressing the occupants of the Great Hall, but the younger Snape didn't seem to be paying attention. Instead, he was staring at the twelve-year old girl, who, in turn, was gazing up at the Headmaster, soaking in every word he said. He watched Her risk a glance up at the younger Snape. McGonagall rushed in the Hall and the Snape at the Head Table stood and followed her back out again. Snape smirked. He had forgotten that Her friends had crashed a flying car into the Whomping Willow.

He stepped closer to Her and attempted to place a hand on Her shoulder, just wanting to feel Her skin under his fingers. His hand went right through Her. Dumbledore concluded his speech and everyone applauded as food appeared on the golden platters.

The room swam and colors swirled together. Snape was standing in an upper room of the Shrieking Shack, the murderer Black pointing a wand at the younger version of Snape. She was curled up in a corner, Ron's arms around Her, his leg bleeding profusely. The werewolf Lupin stood next to a confused Harry. Knowing what was coming next, Snape looked over to see Her raising Her own wand, a pained look crossing Her face. He winced as his other self went flying across the room and into the wall. At least She could take care of Herself.

The next thing he knew, they were all outside, and Snape watched as he guarded Her, Ron, and Harry from Lupin, who was transforming into a disfigured werewolf. No matter how hard he tried, She had somehow broken free of his grip and attempted to talk some sense into Lupin. Snape remembered how close She had come to dying and looked away, unable to watch.

Luckily for him, he was now amidst a group of swirling dancers. The Yule Ball in Her fourth year. He stepped off of the dance floor and began to search for Her. This was Her memory, why couldn't he find Her? He left the Great Hall, thinking that maybe She had left for a bit of fresh air. She had left, but not for the air. She was yelling a bewildered looking Ron and Harry, though what She was saying was lost behind Her sobs. Snape glanced around, knowing that he would find himself, three years younger, watching from just inside the threshold of the Hall. He turned back to Her, and saw that Ron and Harry were retreating up the stairs. She sunk down onto on the stairs, her head in Her hands.

Umbridge's office materialized around him. A soot-covered Harry was being held up by the toad herself and she was demanding Snape to get her more Veritaserum. He saw the look of relief cross Her face from where She stood in a Slytherin girl's arms when Snape said he had no more left. He smiled in spite of himself. He _had _had a small bottle left, but not wanting to know what Harry's true thoughts were (_or turning Her farther against me_, he now thought to himself, finally understanding his true motives) he had denied Umbridge the potion. Harry yelled out his bit about Padfoot, and Snape could almost taste Her shock. She looked from Snape to Harry and back again, unbelieving. The younger Snape fled the room, going to find Dumbledore.

He now sat in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. She was next to him, sitting with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. Sixth year. Snape vaguely remembered attending the match, though not to support the Slytherin team. He twisted around to find himself sitting three rows up. He hadn't realized it then, but he had come to be near Her. He returned his attention back to Her and She jumped up as Ron made a spectacular save, Her face flushed. He saw Her glance around to where his younger self was sitting behind Her, but Lavender pulled Her into a hug before She could meet his gaze.

Snape was back in his classroom, but the stream of memories was not finished yet. Looking at the contents of Her cauldron, he was brought back to a day just a few months ago. The other Snape was at the head of the class, staring at Her. That had been the day he figured out that he had feelings for Her. She looked up and met his gaze. Snape was painfully reminded of how his heart had leapt, but he kept his eyes on Her. She continued to watch him after he looked away, Her expression foreign to Snape. But he could figure out what it meant.

It meant She knew.

XxX

Snape was finally back in the present time. He sat staring at the glass in his hand. How long _had_ he had feelings for Her? And how long had She known? Snape wasn't sure he wanted to find out the answer to that; he could feel his usually pale cheeks grow warm just at the thought of being attracted to anyone, let alone a student.

The bell sounded for students to go to their second period class. Snape was startled at how long he had out of it. He returned Her potion to the vial and slipped it back into his pocket for the next time he felt like delving into Her thoughts, not caring that they would just be a replay of what he had just seen.

His seventh year students were lining up outside the room and he unlocked the door. They came entered the classroom in groups. She came in with Harry and Ron, not even glancing up at him. Neville was the last to walk through the doorway, five minutes later than everyone else, clutching Trevor tightly in his trembling hands.

Snape used the first hour of the double lesson to test all of the potions from the previous day. All except Hers. Snape was surprised when Neville's Shrinking potion successfully shrunk Trevor to the size of a pin point, though his respect for Neville was gone just as quickly when the boy started shouting that he had Vanished his toad. Malfoy had failed to fix his potion, resulting in nasty looking boils all over Trevor's body. Ron's potion succeeded in turning Trevor many different colors. Ron nodded vigorously when Snape asked if this was what was meant to happen. The potion Harry had concocted put the now vivid purple toad into a sleep so deep it took Snape a few long moments to rouse him, all the while Neville yelling that Trevor was dead. All in all, most of the potion's turned out quite well, and Trevor was returned to Neville's pocket uninjured.

After all of the potions had been tested, Snape set them to their next task: a potion out of the textbook. He spent the rest of the period prowling among the students, often stopping to point out mistakes. His feet led him to the table where She sat, much to both of their surprise. She looked up at him and quickly glanced back down, Her tiny nose just inches from the book she was sharing with Ron, though he could tell that She wasn't reading the words on the pages. He checked each of their potions and continued on without a word.

With just a few minutes left of class, the students placed vials of their potions on his desk and returned to their seats, talking quietly amongst themselves. Her hand shot into the air. He beckoned for Her to come up to his desk.

"I was just–" She began, but the bell cut her off. She turned to face Harry and Ron who were waiting for Her at their usual table. "You guys go ahead. I'll catch up." They looked skeptical but obliged.

She returned Her focus to Snape once everyone had left the classroom. "I was just wondering why you didn't test my potion."

Snape looked up at Her from where he sat, the desk the only thing between them. "I did," he said simply.

She hugged Her arms around Herself. "Well, did you like it?" She sounded a little uncomfortable, as if She didn't know exactly what to say. She bit Her lip.

Snape stood up quickly, knocking his chair over behind him. He leaned across the desk and pressed his lips to Hers. Hermione's. She allowed his lips to linger on Hers for second before She stepped back, a startled look on Her face.

"Professor, I–" They stared at each other. She turned and ran from the room, Her robes billowing out behind Her.

A/N: I have the next chapter started. It's in Hermione's POV. Review this if you want to read it. Muh ha, ha, ha, I am so evil.


	3. Chapter 3

Snape had kissed her. She felt a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Correction: Snape had kissed her and she had liked it.

Hermione sighed unconsciously and cupped her chin in her hand. There had always been something about Snape that intrigued her. He had a sort of forbidden sexiness about him. She'd been slightly shocked when she first starting thinking about him in this way, but she couldn't hide from the truth. The tension she felt between them had been there for a while, but she made no mention of it to Harry or Ron. They were boys, they wouldn't understand. Plus, it was _Snape_; they would think she was delusional.

She had first noticed it a few months back when she had caught Snape watching her in class with a frown on his face instead of the usual scowl. Hermione had figured there was something wrong with her potion so she immediately got back to work. When she looked back up a few minutes later however, Snape was still watching her, his expression unreadable. She met his gaze for a fraction of a second. Hermione could feel the electricity sizzle in the steam filled room before Snape hurriedly stalked over to Malfoy to help with his potion. He roamed among the students for the rest of the lesson, stopping to make comments here and there, and near the end of the lesson had come over to the trio's table, though he hadn't said a word. Hermione breathed in deeply, remembering he way he smelled as he had swept behind her, his movement disturbing the air around her and causing her hair to gently lift off her shoulders. He had the musty scent of something that had been stored away for years, reminding Hermione of an old and unopened book.

The changes in Snape after that day, though subtle, were noticeable to Hermione. His hair would be combed and neatly parted, his robes less wrinkled. He started showing up for breakfast and lunch instead of just dinner. He could be caught gazing at her in nearly every lesson, his usual hard, cold black eyes soft until he realized she noticed him staring.

Hermione found herself thinking about him more and more with each passing day. She wondered what it would feel like to run her hands through his hair. She wanted to him to push her onto his desk, to press his lips to hers, to ravish her right in the classroom–

Something hit Hermione's head. She looked over the edge of her desk to find a crumpled piece of parchment lying on the floor. Glancing to her left she saw Harry and Ron with concerned looks on their faces. "What?" she mouthed, worried she had made some mention of her fantasy with Snape out loud. Harry looked from the blank parchment sitting in front of her up to Professor Binns who was lecturing mindlessly in front of the class and back again.

"Take your own notes," she whispered. Her two best friends stared at her with wide eyes, but Hermione ignored them, turned towards the front of the room, and determinedly didn't listen to a word Binns said.

_She was lying on Snape's desk, Snape on top of her. She unzipped his black pants and flung them aside. He undid the buttons on her shirt, placing a light kiss on her bare skin after each one he did. Snape removed her last bit of clothing, a red lace bra, and threw it to the floor. Sick of waiting, she pulled herself up and smashed her lips to his. Tongues clashed as Snape lowered her back down onto his desk. His hands molded to her every curve. She–_

Another wad of parchment flew across the aisle and bounced off Hermione's cheek, coming to a rest on the floor next to the other one. She turned to face the boys. "What do you want?" she snapped, a little louder than intended. A few heads turned her way, but Binns continued to read from his notes without looking up.

Harry and Ron had their faces scrunched up as if trying to figure out what was wrong with their friend. Hermione rolled her eyes. "You okay, Mione?" Ron asked. Harry nodded, encouraging her to answer.

"I'm _fine_," she insisted. "And I don't think it would kill you to take your own notes for once."

Ron started to retort, but Lavender Brown twisted around to glare at the three of them from where she sat in front of Hermione. "Will you three be quiet? Some of us are trying to listen." Hermione smirked. She had just seen Lavender whispering with Parvati and judging from the way they had been pointing, it had been about the new Ravenclaw boy two rows over.

"Something's wrong with Hermione," Ron explained. Lavender followed his gaze to Hermione's blank parchment. Then she smiled.

"Hermione's in love!" Lavender squealed.

"What?" Hermione choked out. Ron was snickering and Harry had lowered his head and smiled shyly.

"Just look at you! You've got this dreamy little look in your eyes, and you were staring off into space when I asked you for your notes a few minutes ago."

"You asked me for my–"

"Exactly. You didn't even realize I was talking to you. You're in love," Lavender concluded. She gave Hermione a sympathetic smile and returned her attention to Binns.

Ron made sure that Binns was still reading from his notes and stood up, moving into the empty desk on the other side of Hermione. He and Harry slowly and quietly scooted their desks together, sandwiching Hermione between them.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed as quietly as possible as to not disturb those few who were actually paying attention. Ron raised a finger to his lips. Harry slid into his desk and took the unadorned parchment from Hermione. He raised his quill and when he finished, passed it over to Ron. Ron wrote something as well and placed it back in front of her.

**So, you're in love**, it said in Harry's scrawl.He had drawn a smiley face with hearts for eyes next to what he had written and it was charmed to bat its eyelashes at her.

**_Yeah, so who's the lucky bastard?_** Ron's untidy scribble read. Hermione looked between them, exasperated.

Hermione raised her own quill to the parchment. I am most certainly NOT in love! She left it on her desk and slumped back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. 

Harry and Ron leaned over to read what she had written. She didn't like the way they crowded her personal space, their masculine smell invading her nose. The boys fought for possession of the note and Harry won. He wrote and quickly handed it back to her. Ron tried to snatch it but backed down when he saw the look on Hermione's face.

**It's ok, Mione. We all have our physical desires. It doesn't have to be love that you feel. **The smiley face was now smirking at her. Hermione faced Harry to find the expression mirrored on his face as well. Ron took the opportunity to grab the parchment and added his own comment.

_**Yeah, it just better not be that Ravenclaw bloke over there.**_

_Why ever not? _Ron looked at her, shocked. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. He just stared. _He's quite good looking_, she added.

_**He's GAY!**_

_Oh, Ronald, you can't tell that just by looking at someone. _

_**Yes I can. And he is obviously a man lover.**_

Harry reached out and took the paper from Hermione hands.

**He doesn't look gay. So Ron, how would you know? Is he YOUR lover?**

Ron read what Harry had written and scowled at him.

_**NO! Just look at his hair. **_

**What about it?**

_**It's… all slicked back and stuff. No guy spends that much time on their hair unless they're gay.**_

_Is there something wrong with being gay? _Hermione wrote once the note was back in her hands. Harry and Ron both shook their heads.

_**You just can't fancy a guy that likes other guys.**_

_Lavender seems to fancy him._

**Yeah, and we all know what happens when Lavender fancies someone.**

Ron's face turned a deep shade of red.

**Don't have anything to say to that, do you Won-Won?**

Ron crumpled up the parchment and chucked it at Harry, who caught it one handed and unwrinkled it with a quick charm.

**So, Hermione, who is it? You know you can tell us.**

Ron nodded in agreement as he read the note over Hermione's shoulder.

_There's no one!_ Hermione wrote quickly, as to not give the boy's a reason to think that she was hesitating.

_**So there IS someone.**_

NO!!! 

**Hermione, you wrote your answer way too fast for there to NOT be anyone. Don't lie. **

Hermione shook her head, exasperated. She had been having a hard time keeping Snape a secret and she desperately wanted to tell someone.

**Or, you don't have to tell us. That's ok too.**

_**Harry! What are you talking about? Of course she has to tell us! **_

Harry shot Ron a death glare. The room was oddly quiet and Hermione looked up to find all their classmates gone, Binns exiting through the classroom wall. Harry and Ron noticed that room was empty as well, and the three of them headed to lunch. The boys shot Hermione curious glances the whole way down to the Great Hall, but she just ignored them, keeping Snape to herself for yet another day.

XxX

Hermione made it through the last few classes of the day with no more interrogations from Ron and Harry, though she often looked up to find them watching her intently, hoping that she would give away who it was. Not wanting any more trouble from them, she kept her mind on her studies, paying attention in class rather than fantasizing about Snape.

They arrived in the Great Hall for dinner after Transfiguration, their last lesson of the day, with their arms stacked full of books. Ron and Harry were grumbling about the amount of homework they had been given; it was supposed to be a beautiful weekend and a Hogsmeade trip had been scheduled.

"Then I guess you'll just have to do it all tonight," Hermione said when she heard them contemplating whether or not to skip out on the Charms homework in favor of having a Quidditch practice.

"Aww, Hermione, look," Ron pointed up at the enchanted ceiling. "We can't stay in tonight." Hermione followed Ron's gaze. The ceiling, which mirrored the outside sky, was a clear blue with not a cloud in sight. She just shrugged.

"Will you help us?" Harry asked.

Again Hermione only shrugged. Unlike usual, she didn't have the rest of her evening planned out. She supposed she should get a start on her homework, but she had a feeling that it wasn't going to work out that way.

The boys frowned at her. "You all right Mione?" Ron asked with his mouth full of food.

Harry waited for Hermione's affirmative nod before spooning a pile of carrots onto his plate. She ate the rest of her meal in silence, listening as Ron and Harry planned out their next practice.

When she was sure that their attention was completely off of her and focused on Quidditch, she risked a glance up to the Head Table. Her heart jumped. There Snape sat, picking at his food. He looked… different, glum almost. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Had she done that to him when she had ran out of the room? She hadn't meant to hurt him, she had just panicked.

She sighed without realizing it, and caught Harry and Ron's attention. "Listen Hermione. We're guys. We can't really tell when something's wrong with you and whatnot, so you're gonna have to tell us," Ron said.

"Really, I'm fine. I'm just trying to figure out how I'm going to get all this homework finished," she lied quickly.

The boys still looked skeptical but they returned to their meal, once again complaining about that weekend's outlook. Hermione finished her dinner and stood up abruptly. Snape had left the Hall a few minutes earlier, and she was sure he was headed down to his office. Something inside of her took control and she knew exactly what she was going to do.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked, startled at her sudden movement.

"For a walk," she replied, her eyes on the ceiling. It was no longer blue in color, but a brilliant orange of the setting sun.

"I'll come with you," Harry offered, standing up. He had a shy smile on his face. Ron smirked.

"Actually, I'd like to have some time to myself," Hermione said, brushing Harry aside. He looked at her in astonishment. She walked away from the table and could swear she heard Ron mutter, "Women" under his breath.

When she arrived in the Entrance Hall, instead of turning towards the dungeons she headed out the oak doors that led into the grounds. The fresh air helped to soothe her frazzled nerves. She could feel her heart beating out an unsteady rhythm. She couldn't believe she was going to do this, but she knew she had to.

Her feet took her down the familiar path to the Greenhouses. The sun was rapidly setting behind her, nestling behind the Forbidden Forest. She walked past three greenhouses before coming to the one that held the Muggle plants. She pushed inside.

The air was thick and humid in the plant-filled greenhouse. Professor Sprout liked to keep some non-magical flowers for the pureblood witches and wizards who had never seen them before. Hermione lit the tip of her wand in the dark room as the sun was now nearly completely hidden beyond the horizon. She passed through the rows of plants until she finally found the roses. There were a variety of colors rarely even seen in a floral store, but instead of picking a vibrant one, she reached out and grabbed the most beautiful white one she could find. Cradling the single rose in her arms, she returned to the castle.

Before entering the castle, she transfigured the flower into a pencil and stuck it in the front pocket of her robes. She had no desire for more questions from Ron and Harry. She made her way back up to Gryffindor Tower, smiling genially at the few people she met in the corridors.

Ron and Harry were sitting at one of the tables in the Common Room, bent over a wide variety of books. They both glanced up when they heard Hermione enter. She smiled. The only people in the Common Room were seventh years, trying hard to finish up their homework before the upcoming weekend. Everyone else was either finishing up dinner or outdoors.

"Hermione, this is making no sense to me at all," Ron complained from behind a huge pile of books. She went to stand behind him and read over his half-finished Transfiguration essay.

"What's wrong with this?" she asked, not sure what the problem was.

"There's nothing in the books about how to turn a hedgehog into a pin cushion!" Ron exclaimed as he gestured to the book lying open in front of him. Hermione looked at the book he was using as reference.

"Ronald, that's your History of Magic book," Hermione pointed out. Ron turned a deep shade of red and pulled over the correct textbook. Hermione stayed with them for a few more minutes to help them get a few ideas before she turned to go up to the girls' dormitory.

"Hey, where are you going?" Harry asked. Hermione grimaced.

"I have to, um, I– oh why does it matter? I don't have to tell you exactly where I'm going to be every second of every day." With that, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the Common Room, not having to look at Ron and Harry to be able to picture the looks of bewilderment on their faces.

Hermione was grateful that she was the only one up in the dormitory. She sighed and pressed her burning head against the cool glass window next to her bed. The usually calm butterflies in her stomach fluttered around uncontrollably. She knew what she was going to do, but she had no idea what the outcome was going to be, and just the thought of that scared her.

Taking a deep breath, she turned and pulled out her trunk from under the bed. She sifted through the clothing, throwing aside shirts and robes until her fingers grazed the bottom lining of the trunk. She pushed under some socks and her hand fell across a fabric different from the rest. She grabbed at it and pulled it out.

The sundress she held in her hands had not yet been worn and the tag was still attached. She held it up and went to stand in front of the full-length mirror beside Lavender's bed. The crisp white sleeveless dress fell to just above her knees. The blue floral pattern on it made it look vintage. She shimmed out of her clothes and pulled on the dress. Though she was not usually one for dressing up, Hermione couldn't help but smile.

She covered the dress with her robes and slipped into a pair of white sandals. Making sure that the rose-turned-pencil was still in her pocket, she returned to the Common Room. Still seated at the table, Ron and Harry were having an argument in hushed whispers. They hadn't noticed her emerge from the dormitory, and she hoped to keep it that way. She snuck over to the portrait hole and was just pushing it open when someone stepped inside, knocking her backwards. They fell together in a pile of robes. Bright orange hair caught Hermione's eye.

"Oh, Hermione, I'm so sorry!" squealed Ginny. She helped Hermione up.

"It's fine," Hermione lied. She looked over at the table, hoping the boys hadn't heard the commotion but they were watching her, no longer fighting. They beckoned Hermione over. She dusted herself off, made sure the pencil was in her pocket, and went over to them.

"You going out?" Harry asked awkwardly, sneaking a glance at Ron.

"I was planning on it, yes," she answered impatiently.

"Oh, okay." She turned to leave.

"Hermione!" Harry blurted out. She groaned and turned. "I was just– I uh– Will you go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?"

"Of course. Don't I always?" She really wanted to get down to the dungeons.

"I just–" he cast a nervous glance at Ron before continuing. "I meant like we could go _together._ Me and you."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Harry, I, uh, I have to go." She ran out of the portrait hole without giving him an answer.

XxX

Hermione stood beside the Fat Lady with her head in her hands. She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. Her emotions were beginning to overwhelm her, but as she began to sort them out, she realized that none of them had to do with Harry. They were all revolving around Snape. She grinned and held her head high as she made her way down to the dungeons.

She stood outside Snape's office, her robes discarded in a bathroom on the third floor, a single white rose held tightly in her trembling hands. She raised a fist and knocked twice on the closed door.

Locks clicked and the door opened a few inches. Hermione could see a sliver of Snape's face through the crack. Her heart jumped to her throat and she was suddenly lightheaded. The words she had been planning to say were instantly wiped away. Snape opened the door the rest of the way, a look of surprise on his face.

Hermione held out the rose and Snape stared at it. "This is for you," she said with a nervous smile. Snape extended his hand and took the rose. Their fingers brushed and her skin seemed to burst into flames. She gasped and heard Snape do the same.

"Thank you," he whispered as if his voice was no longer working.

They stared at the floor, neither knowing what to say. Glancing up at the same time, they met each other's gaze. As if like magnets, their faces slowly moved closer and closer until their lips were only centimeters apart. Hermione stared into his eyes, lost in the deep black pools. Without hesitation, she closed her own eyes and pressed her lips to Snape's. The burst of fireworks that exploded across her eyelids nearly knocked her backwards. Snape raised a hand to the back of her head and pulled her into the office, kicking the door closed behind him.

Hermione threaded her fingers through Snape's hair, steadying herself. Snape's tongue slipped through her parted lips and filled her mouth. He dropped the rose and brought both hands to Hermione's face, cupping her cheeks in his hands. He let out a groan as she captured his bottom lip and sucked on it gently. Snape brushed his thumb against her jaw and she leaned into his touch. She danced the tip of her tongue across his, causing him to shiver. He ran his hands through her hair as the kiss deepened and became more passionate. A burning sensation filled the pit of Hermione's stomach and she could feel Snape's erection pressing into her through his robes.

She let out a sob. Snape released her from his grip and held her at arm's length. She let the tears fall freely, though she wasn't sure why she was crying. The kiss they had shared was the most tender and romantic thing she had ever experienced and it had felt so _right._ And suddenly she understood. It was the fact that this thing she had with Snape, whatever it was, was _so_ right, it made her feel complete and wanted and _loved_, that it was wrong.

She wasn't making any sense. She didn't know what to say, so she didn't say anything. She turned and left the office, fat tears flowing from her eyes. She stepped on something and looked down to see what it was before hurrying on.

A single white rose lay crushed under her feet.

A/N: Okay, so another evil ending. But you know you love me and want to leave me a review. If you do, you might see a sequel…

Oh, and thanks to hatakeumino. You know what for.

**4/4/07--- **For those of you who don't like the slightly (fine, _very_) depressing endings and are all for the fluffy, romantic, fairytale endings, the sequel's called **A New Day. ---**


End file.
